For a split second, Orochimaru felt something he had not felt in years.
His body… stopped responding.
It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but unmistakably real. His muscles locked up for half a heartbeat, as if an invisible force had grabbed him and frozen him mid-air.
A strange, vacuum-like pull tugged at his torso.
His golden eyes widened.
Something was dragging him forward—slowly, quietly, but with a terrifying inevitability.
He couldn't move.
For someone like Orochimaru, who had danced in and out of death countless times, this sensation was almost unnatural.
And in that one brief moment—
Uchiha Souji struck again.
The dying boy twisted his body mid-fall, the Third Generation Ghost Blade rotating in a full elegant 360-degree arc. His Sharingan—now a glowing pair of red double tomoe—burned with chilling intensity.
He aimed directly at Orochimaru's exposed side.
Originally, Souji had wanted to take Orochimaru's head clean off in a dramatic final blow. But at this point, killing the Sannin at all was impossible.
So he instead aimed for something Orochimaru would remember forever.
The scar.
"Heavenly Flying Dragon Flash — Second Form!!!"
Orochimaru's face changed instantly.
He finally understood.
The previous high-speed Iaido strike had compressed the air violently, scattering it with raw chakra-infused force.
And now—
That displaced air was returning.
Returning to the center.
Returning to the point where Souji now attacked.
Returning… forcing Orochimaru toward the blade.
A Wind-Style application disguised inside a simple sword draw.
A trick.
A trap.
A genius's last gamble.
Orochimaru's voice trembled as he whispered:
"Wind pressure… rebound… so the first slash was only the setup… and this is the killing blow…"
Souji's voice was faint—he was moments away from collapse. But still, he recited the technique as if reading his own epitaph:
"Even if the enemy dodges the dragon's fangs… they cannot escape the storm's claws.
A trapped body is torn apart…
This is—Heavenly Flying Dragon Flash!!!"
And he struck.
The Third Generation Ghost Blade ripped through the air, slicing directly for Orochimaru's waist, the edge gleaming with chakra-sharpened brilliance.
The blade was so close—
So close—
It would cut the Sannin in half.
Orochimaru's pupils shrank. He could see death.
He could feel death.
For a heartbeat, it truly looked like the Gates of Hell opened, hungry and waiting to drag him in.
And then—
"BOOM!"
White smoke.
A puff.
A substitution.
The blade cut a log cleanly in half.
It fell with two quiet thumps.
Souji's eyes widened in despair.
Even at the very end—
Even when his life and chakra were burning away—
A ninja is always a ninja.
Deception is always deception.
If it had been Mifune of the Land of Iron, perhaps Souji's gamble would have worked.
But Orochimaru?
He was too cunning to die so easily.
Souji let out a weak breath and slowly sheathed his blade.
His final attack had failed.
Then—
He collapsed.
His body fell limp onto the dirt, blood pooling beneath him.
His breathing was shallow.
His consciousness fading.
The Third Generation Ghost Spirit screamed:
"This is cheating! CHEATING! He had you—he almost had you, you snake bastard!!!"
"If you have any pride, fight him again when he's older! Face him then, coward!"
But Orochimaru could not hear the desperate rage echoing inside the sword.
He dropped down from a nearby branch, landing lightly, his face cloudy with dark emotions.
He stared at Souji's fallen form.
And for the first time…
Orochimaru looked unsettled.
He wiped cold sweat from his chin. At that moment earlier—when Souji's blade almost reached him—it felt as if ghostly hands had dragged him toward death.
He truly believed he had glimpsed hell.
If he hadn't used the Body Replacement Technique—
He would be dead.
"Why shouldn't I use substitution?" he whispered. "I am a ninja… deception is our blood."
He chuckled uneasily.
Then—
"Pa… pa… pa…"
Orochimaru applauded.
But this time the applause was genuine.
"Magnificent," he said softly. "What a terrifying child."
He listed Souji's talents like a collector admiring a rare gem:
• Swordsmanship perfectly fused with chakra
• Battle sense beyond his age
• Preparation layered upon preparation
• The speed and precision of a true genius
• A double-tomoe Sharingan opened at such a young age
He shook his head in disbelief.
"At his age… I could not have done this."
He stepped forward and retrieved the Kusanagi Blade, then stood over Souji.
"What a waste… such talent. Such potential."
He raised his sword.
"Since you refused me… go greet Senju Hashirama in the Pure Land. I will make good use of your body."
He swung the sword downward—
"FWOOSH!"
Something black shot between them.
A metal clang rang out.
A black staff—heavy, thick, and unmistakable—had embedded itself between Orochimaru's sword and Souji's body.
Orochimaru's expression darkened instantly.
"…The Monkey King Staff."
The transformation technique of the Summoning Beast of—
The Third Hokage.
And indeed—
A figure in black armor descended from the branches above, landing gracefully with barely a sound. Smoke curled from his pipe as he took a long drag.
His eyes were sharp.
Old.
And deeply disappointed.
"Orochimaru… you used trickery to defeat a child."
Orochimaru nearly screamed.
A CHILD?!
This monster lying on the ground was no child!
But the Third Hokage ignored his reaction.
He had arrived the moment Orochimaru stabbed Kakashi.
He had seen everything.
He knew Kakashi risked himself, released a loud jutsu, and stalled for time.
He knew Souji took blow after blow, burning his life to delay Orochimaru even longer.
He knew both boys fought with the last bits of their strength to draw attention.
And he knew—
Uchiha Souji never abandoned Kakashi.
Not even when death was certain.
That was the Will of Fire.
Sarutobi Hiruzen's heart trembled.
Especially when Souji shouted:
"It is the soul of Konoha's shinobi!"
For a moment, the Third Hokage could see the shadow of the First Hokage behind the boy.
He saw the heart of Konoha.
"This child… is worthy." Hiruzen murmured.
"Even the gods cannot deny him.
He WILL be saved.
I have decided."
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